Just Three Words
by Tori Stone
Summary: No one ever tells you just how drastically life-altering three little words can be. They never say how they can change you - for better or for worse. I had to learn the hard way.
1. Prologue

Hi guys.

I'm feeling a little morbid. Thinking about my grandpa. :/

This story is based off true events...mostly. Obviously, it's a romance, just because it's Danny and Sam, but the more serious side of it...it was my experience with my grandpa.

Don't worry, you'll understand soon enough.

I don't own Danny Phantom.

I really hope you guys enjoy this, but before you start reading, I URGE you to read my profile. There is very important information that is **BOLDED AND CAPITALIZED** in my bio that you should know before you read this. Yes, it applies here.

I really love you guys (:

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><p><strong>Just Three Words<strong>

**Prologue**

**August 19, 2011**

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><p>I never knew how life-changing three little words could actually be. Just three words. They can change a life, for the better or for the worse. They can alter the very fabric of time.<p>

Now, usually, when someone says anything about "three words", you immediately think of _those_ three words, am I right? "I love you" or whatever.

Yeah, _those_ three words can definitely change your life...for the better, hopefully. When your best friend says _those_ three words to you, in a way that's more than friendship, or even kinship, it definitely changes things. I learned that through experience, and it definitely changed me for the better.

What you don't think about are the words, "Sam has cancer." You don't think, "Sam's heart stopped." And you _definitely_ don't think, "Sam is dead."

All of those words changed me. They took root in my soul. They altered my very core.

And it was definitely for the worse.

It all happened so fast...it's still a blur in my mind. When I try to think about what happened, all I feel is pain. Pain, misery, fear, and worry. All I see is darkness, hazy shapes moving in slow motion, blurred by tears and a complete and utter lack of sleep. So in an effort to understand exactly what happened, I'm trying to write it out. Sam says that writing down experiences help you later in life. It gives you an opportunity to be able to look back and learn from your mistakes. To avoid making the same mistakes in the future.

Not sure how that's going to apply here.

I guess we're going to find out together, aren't we?

My name is Danny Fenton.

Exactly two months ago today, my best friend, the love of my life, Sam Manson, was diagnosed with breast cancer. 61 days exactly.

This is our story.

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><p>Not sure what possessed me to make me write this. But I've been reading a ton of new books lately. I credit the point of view idea to <em>Percy Jackson and the Olympians <em>by Rick Riordan, which I have somehow only just discovered. I know, I'm oober late. I got the tone of this from a book called _The Enemy_ by Charlie Higson. If you've never read it before, I highly suggest it. It's extremely well written, but it _is_ a horror novel, complete with graphic deaths. Plenty of blood and guts, but balanced nicely with friendship and romance. Tons of fun to read on a stormy day. (:

Anyways, I hope you guys like it so far. Let me know what you're thinking, I'd love some feedback. But if you're planning on flaming me on this, please know that I will not hesitate to bite your head off and then block you. This is an EXTREMELY touchy subject for me. I'm just now getting the courage to write about cancer and the crap it does to screw people's lives up. Flame me, and I will hurt you. They are NOT accepted here. Take 'em somewhere else.

Sorry. Very emotional day.

A friend who moved across the state for college suprised me today...he didn't call or anything, just popped up in my doorway. I cried my eyes out when I saw him. Mostly because he was the one to got me through my grandpa's death. On the off chance that you're reading this...thanks, Michael. I love you (:

Wow. K, I might post the first chapter later this evening.

Maybe.

I love you people. So much. (:

- Tori


	2. Chapter One

My dog is under my bed, barking at me. I think she's trying to scare me, like if she barks and I don't see her, I'll scream or something. Idiot dog. Hahaha.

Anyways, this is chapter one.

Oh, she just poked her head out at me to see if I was looking at her. No, I'm writing right now. Go away, Millie.

I love Millie.

Anyways.

I don't own Danny Phantom.

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><p><strong>Just Three Words<strong>

**Chapter One**

**August 19, 2011**

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><p>I can remember that day as if it was yesterday. It was two months ago, as I said before. July 3rd, actually. I remember, because I was getting ready to spend the weekend at Sam's lakehouse with her and Tucker for the Fourth of July. We were leaving later in the morning, after Sam's doctor appointment. I was really excited. Wouldn't you be? I mean, an entire weekend out at a lakehouse with your two best friends, no parental supervision? Don't lie, you'd be pretty damn excited. I just didn't have any idea that I wouldn't be experiencing it.<p>

Sam was at the doctor. I didn't think much of it at the time. "Just a check-up," She'd said. She'd lost weight recently, and admitted to having trouble sleeping. What did she call it? Oh, yeah. Night sweats. And she had random outbursts of fever. She was sure it was nothing unusual. Just her body acting up or something. She mentioned she'd accidentally eaten meat (some idiot at a fast-food joint accidently dropped a slice of chicken in her salad without realizing it, and she'd eaten it without realizing what it was until it was too late), and she hadn't been quite right ever since. I believed her. Tucker believed her. I think she had convinced herself, too.

I was a little confused when Sam knocked on my bedroom door. She walked in, staring at me the way she did when her grandmother had died. I immediately assumed one of her parents had died. Stupid, I know. But I lunged across the room and pulled her into a hug, stroking her hair and telling her it would be okay. Everything would be okay. I would take care of her.

"D-Danny..." She sniffled. She had started crying. She placed both of her hands on my chest and pushed gently, but firmly enough to make me stagger backwards. "I...I need to tell you something,"

_My parents are hurt. I can't go to the lakehouse. I'm sorry, but you and Tuck have to spend the Fourth here, while I'm with them in the hospital. I feel awful, but we can go up there later this summer. Okay?_

I wish.

_I'm madly in love with you. Screw Tucker, let's go to the lakehouse together, just you and me. I love you, Danny. I love you with all my heart, and I want you to myself this weekend._

...in my dreams.

But no, she just had to go and destroy my world with her words instead.

I swear, that pause between her statements - which probably lasted about five seconds, or however long it took her to gasp twice, close her eyes, and blurt her next words out - was the last innocent pause I felt in the coming weeks. Her pale face, sparkling with tear tracks, and her eyes. Those violet eyes, so full of pain. I'd never seen them look that...pained before in my life.

"I have cancer,"

That pain in her eyes was nothing compared to the agony that spread like wildfire through my body. I swear, I felt my brain come unhinged. Everything was disconnected. I couldn't see, I couldn't hear, I couldn't feel, I couldn't breathe. All I could process was the word "cancer." It felt like poison. It rang through my mind. _Cancer, cancer, cancer, cancer. Sam has cancer. Cancer is living inside of her. It's eating away at her, chipping away at the girl in front of you. She's being slowly consumed by it, dying a slow and painful death._

"Wh-what?" I heard myself choking on my words. My voice sounded like it was coming through a very long tunnel. I could barely make out the shape of Sam's face, which had twisted and contorted into a shape I'd never seen before. I was freaked out by it at first, until I realized it looked like that because I was crying. The tears in my eyes contorted her figure. I blinked quickly, attempting to see her a little clearer. "But...what?"

"They found it today. When I was at the doctor's."

"Where?"

"It's...I have breast cancer. In...both breasts."

I was stunned. Absolutely shell-shocked. I felt myself swaying. I felt sick.

"They aren't sure how far along it is yet. They're running tests. I'm going to have to go back tomorrow. Danny...I'm sorry, but we can't go to the lake."

That snapped me right out of my stupor.

"Of course we can't go to the lake. You honestly thought I was going to want to go after hearing that?" I asked, a little more harshly than I intended. She winced. "I'm sorry..." I said quickly. "It's just...you have cancer,"

She closed her eyes, tears streaking down her face. "I know," She mumbled.

Suddenly, I felt very selfish. When she told me the news, my first thoughts were about myself. About how painful it was for me. How scary the thought of losing her is. But I hadn't even stopped to consider the fact that she was the one facing it. She was the one who had to bear the knowledge that she was carrying cancer on her body. I tried to imagine what it would feel like. I couldn't even fathom it.

But a sudden thought came to me. "People survive cancer all the time," I said quickly. I grabbed her by the upper arms and steered her toward my bed, shoving my half-full suitcase out of the way so that she could sit beside me. "People beat cancer every day. You're strong, Sam. You can be one of them! You can beat this, I know you can!"

She looked up at me, nibbling her lip. "Well...that's true, people survive every day. But...it's mainly people who have caught the cancer early. The things I was going to the doctor for...turns out those were symptoms. I've been having those symptoms for a long time now. Almost two years. There's a chance that...it'll be too far along."

_No. No, I won't be having that. You're going to survive,_ I wanted to tell her. _I won't let you leave me all alone._

She watched me sadly. She knew what I was thinking. "I'm sorry. I'm praying that I caught it on time. I'm praying I'm not too late. But there's no way to know for sure. I go back tomorrow, they should know more by then. I'm sorry...I have to go tell Tucker."

She stood, leaving me perched on the edge of my bed. My eyes followed her out the door, but my body was rooted on the spot. It was like someone had taken a cast-iron spear and driven it through my chest, pinning me to the spot.

I never knew how powerful three little words could be until that moment.

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><p>Millie says hi.<p>

I would appreciate any reviews you have to spare, my lovelies.

I love you.

- Tori


	3. Chapter Two

I know I mentioned this earlier, but I wanted to remind you guys again: Sam's fight with cancer is based off of my grandfather's fight with his own cancer. Now, obviously, it wasn't breast cancer. I think it was lung cancer. I'm not sure, this part of his story took place several years ago, when I was in eighth grade (I'm about to start college).

That being said, I had to do a little research. I've never known anyone personally who had breast cancer. I'm telling you guys this because some of the facts may be a little off. I did the best I could to understand everything, but if something's wrong, let me know.

I'll start reminding you guys that this is based off a true story at the beginning of each chapter. I'll have an additional chapter at the end to tell you guys what happened to my grandfather if you want. Review and let me know!

I don't own Danny Phantom...and I kind of wish I didn't own this story line, but hey, I lived it. So I guess owning it is kind of my job. (:

This is dedicated to my grandfather, Robert Walker.

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><p><strong>Just Three Words<strong>

**Chapter Two**

**August 20, 2011**

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><p>The first few days were pure chaos. I don't think I slept a wink. It was just this constant rush, at all hours. Researching. Seeking advice. Looking for cancer centers all over the country that could help her.<p>

Phrazes ran through my mind in no particular order. I had sat in so many doctor's offices, listened to so many cancer experts putting in their personal opinions and diagnosis...

_The cancer is regional._

_It is concentrated in the lymph nodes in your underarms, but there is evidence that it may be spreading to below your collarbone._

_You are currently in Stage IIIB._

_It is a hormone-receptive-negative cancer._

_All effected lymph nodes will be traditionally removed._

_We will be scanning to see if the cancereous tumors can be surgically removed._

Now, I wasn't sure exactly what all of them meant, except for the last two. "Traditionally removed." Surgery. Sam would be having a _lot_ of surgery. So there we were, sitting in a private waiting room at the hospital, waiting for her to get out of her first surgery. By 'we' I mean me, Tucker, our parents, and the Mansons. Jazz even flew in from Harvard to be with us. She was only here for that weekend, of course, but it was still comforting to have her around nagging at my parents to leave me alone.

I had taken to brooding. I was moody ever since Sam told me the news. Luckily it was the middle of summer, so I didn't have to worry about keeping up with homework or studying. Not that I would have even bothered to worry about that in the first place, but still. It was nice to not have to live with that guilt when I sat in my room, glaring out the window.

I rested my head against the wall behind me. My eyelids felt heavy, like someone had tied hundred pound weights to both of them. I was deleriously tired. But I couldn't sleep - not without knowing the outcome of her surgery. I felt sick with anticipation. It made me dizzy. I glanced at Tucker. His glassy gaze was fixed on the blank screen of his PDA. I'm pretty sure he fell asleep with his eyes open. I nudged him lightly, supressing a dark chuckle when he jumped. He gave me a grateful smile as he pushed his glasses further up his nose, before directing his stare to the wall on the opposite side of the room. I turned toward the Mansons.

They looked absolutely awful, which surprised me. They were usually so clean-cut and well-dressed; they looked as if they had been living in the hospital waiting room for the last week. Actually, I'm pretty sure they _had_ been living there. I felt a pang of sympathy for them.

I was still watching them when a very tired-looking doctor appeared in the doorway. I recognized him. He was the one who had taken Sam back for surgery. Everyone in the room stood, instantly awake.

"We have successfully removed the lymph nodes, all of which tested positive for cancer," He said slowly. He glanced down at the clipboard in his hands. Then back at us. There was something flickering in his eyes as he glanced quickly at all of us. Like he knew something, but he was afraid to tell us. I felt my stomach clench.

"We ran a few scans on the tumors on each breast." He said evenly. "We have found that we will be able to remove the tumor from her right breast without causing any damage to the tissues and organse surrounding it."

A wave of relief passed through the room. The Manson's turned and hugged each other. The Foley's smiled happily at each other. My dad laughed excitedly while Jazz and my mom clapped their hands together in relief.

But I was watching the doctor. That look was still in his eyes. He looked scared. Terrified, even.

There was something he wasn't telling us.

"What else?" I asked sharply. Everyone paused, staring at me, before their gazes flickered back to the doctor.

"We will not be able to remove the tumor from her left breast. It's too close to her heart. There's a huge risk of damaging her heart if we go in to remove the tumor."

The bubble of relief that was still swelling in the room deflated faster than any balloon. It was almost like finding out she had cancer all over again in that moment. It was despair. It creeped over the room and hung in the air like a storm cloud.

"Is there any way to get rid of it?" Mrs. Manson asked shrilly. "Chemotherepy, radiation, anything?"

"It's too far along. I'm so sorry, ma'am. It's too late. I give her two months, maybe less."

_Two months...what, to live?_

"You're joking," I gasped. "This is a sick joke..."

"I'm sorry, son." The look in his eyes was full of pity. I wanted to punch him.

"Can we see her?" Mrs. Manson asked. The doctor nodded and beckoned the couple forward. Everyone else hung back, allowing them time to speak with their daughter privately. I collapsed back into my seat, not really seeing. I was shaking. Hell, I was trembling. I felt like there was an earthquake inside of me, ripping me to shreds. More than anything, I wanted a ghost to appear, so that I could unload everything I was feeling in one lethal punch.

But of course, it was Tucker who approached me. He sat beside me, nervously twisting his hands. I could feel him looking at me, but I ignored him. He seemed to sense that I was not able to be reached with words; he just placed a single hand on my shoulder and squeezed. I appreciated it. Warmth trickled through my shirt and settled on the surface of my skin beneath his hand.

We sat like that for probably another half hour, completely tuning our parents out. They had launched themselves into a discussion about whether or not it was fair for parents to have to bury their own children. Jazz babbled about the psychological effects of it all. That was when the Mansons appeared in the doorway.

If they looked bad before, they looked ghastly now. There aren't words to describe the way they looked when they shuffled back in, other than dead on their feet. Once they were sitting in the seats they had occupied before, everyone in the room turned and looked at me. I felt heat rising in my cheeks. Tucker gave me a light push.

"Go on," He murmured.

I stood. The doctor was standing patiently in the doorway, giving me a small sympathetic smile. I resisted the urge to punch his lights out as we walked toward the elevator.

It was a silent ride up to the sixth floor. I think the doctor got the message that I would hurt him if he tried to console me, so he gave me my space. He lead me down a sterile hallway, and pointed at a closed door. I registered the fact that there was a name plate on the outside of the door, which read: _SAM MANSON, CANCER PATIENT._ I gulped and pushed the door open.

When I saw her sitting up in bed, the rest of the world melted away. There she was, looking fit and healthy as ever. Of course, she was reclined on a stack of pillows, but she was there. Smiling at me.

"Danny," She murmured happily.

And I _lost_ it.

The floodgates just exploded. I burst into tears, stumbling forward blindly. I somehow managed to find the chair beside her bed, which I collapsed into. I leaned forward and crossed my arms over the bed, resting my forehead against my arms as I sobbed. I felt her hands in my hair, gently stroking and braiding her fingers through it. It was so comforting. But then, that's Sam. She could be dying of incurable breast cancer, and still she'll go out of her way to comfort you.

"Sh, Danny, it's okay. Calm down, I'm okay..."

I sat up and stared at her blearily. She was smiling at me, but I could see the pain in her eyes. She was scared. I was scared.

It was at that moment that it struck me. I realized just how serious this was. Sam had two months to live. Maybe less. Two months, and she would be gone forever. I had to tell her how I felt. There was no fear of rejection anymore. I couldn't let her go without knowing for sure that she knew.

"Sam," I grabbed her hand. "I need to tell you something,"

She gazed at me expectantly.

"I...uh...I..."

"I love you, Danny." She murmured. I started. _Did she seriously just say that?_

"I love you too!" I gasped. She smiled.

And then, I kissed her.

The warmth that spread through my body was like nothing I'd ever felt before. It was perfect. It countered the cold that usually radiated from my core because of my ghost powers perfectly. Everything about that kiss was beyond perfect. I still get goosebumps thinking about that kiss.

Three words make all the difference.

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><p>I had to start the relationship there, since she's only been given two months to live. I tried to make it seemed rushed, since everything about what Danny is trying to do is rushed.<p>

You never really do realize just how important a person is to you until you find out they only have two months to live. But then, isn't that how we should treat everyone? No one knows the exact day they will die...shouldn't we always act like the people we care about only have a day to live? Hell, shouldn't WE act like we only have one day to live?

Life's too dang short for us to act like we're guaranteed tomorrow.

Just a thought.

- Tori


	4. Chapter Three

Right right, reminders:

This is based off a true story. Well...this chapter, not so much. But the main plot is based off a true story.

(In case you guys didn't figure it out, I was in Danny's position. That's why the emotions are more...genuine. 'Cause I felt them.)

If you're reading this and you haven't checked out my profile like I suggested, you've probably lead yourself to think that this will end sadly. Just check out my profile, please. Tanks.

I don't own Danny Phantom.

Hm...I think that's it.

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><p><strong>Just Three Words<strong>

**Chapter Three**

**August 20, 2011**

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><p>You know, now that I'm actually trying to write all this down, I'm starting to realize the only clear memories I have from the last few months are the moments I had with Sam. Everything else is a hazy blur. Strange.<p>

Anyways.

I had no idea how hard it was to try and fit an entire life-long relationship into two months. But we managed it. It was hard, yes. But we did it. Well, I felt like an old man by the end of the two months, after all. But I am so madly in love with her, it's ridiculous.

The doctors let her go home. She said she didn't want to spend the last part of her life in a hospital room. She wanted to be in the comfort of her home when her time...er...came.

That's hard to write down.

We spent most of those weeks cuddled on the couches in her basement. Sometimes we actually watched TV and movies and such, but most of the time, we just sat and talked. For hours on end. And it _never_ got old. I never found myself getting bored, or thinking about anything but her. There were even times we just sat in complete silence. Those were the best, when she would just rest her head against my chest and breathe. It was like getting to hold her life in my arms for a while, taking away the burden and the worry of the cancer.

I found out that she can sing. Man, can she sing. Her voice is the most pure, beautiful sound I've ever heard. She sang slow songs mostly, songs about having dreams and wishes. It would make me choke up, my eyes misty. But it was beautiful. She was beautiful.

"What are you afraid of?" She asked me one night. It was only a few days after she'd gotten home from having the tumor in her right breast successfully removed. We had been sitting in silence for a while; I found myself watching the way the light shimmered in her hair whenever she moved. I blinked.

"Um...I don't know," I said truthfully. "I guess I'm afraid of...not being able to protect the people I care about." I tightened my grip around her shoulders. She nuzzled her face into my neck, her lips pressing lightly against my collarbone. "What about you? What are you afraid of?"

You would expect her answer to be "dying of breast cancer at a young age," since that's kind of exactly what she was facing. But Sam really and truly surprised me that night with her answer.

"Time." She murmured. She sighed and began tracing circles over my chest. "I'm afraid of time."

"You're afraid of...time?"

"Well, not exactly time. I'm afraid of not having _enough_ time. There's still so much I want to do, _need_ to do. And...I'm just afraid of not having enough time to do it all,"

It was wise. I would have never dreamed of that. But thinking about it, it was a scary thing. The whole idea of your life coming to an end before you got to do everything you wanted. She would never be given the opportunity to graduate high school. She would never go to college. She would never get married, never have kids or grandkids. Her life would be over before it even started.

I felt a lump forming in my throat. It wasn't fair. She was only seventeen. She still had her whole life ahead of her. But it was being taken away from her, stolen from her before she had the chance to prove herself. It just wasn't fair.

"I love you, Danny. Don't ever forget that, okay?"

I nodded. I couldn't find my voice. But she knew I wouldn't forget.

A little over a month after her diagnosis, we were sitting in her basement together. Her mom came down the stairs, holding a little ball of fur.

"Sam?" Her mom asked timidly. Sam struggled to sit up; the cancer had been acting up that day, and Sam was really having a hard time coping with it. But she put on a brave face and smiled at her mother, who was holding the ball out to her. "Your father and I...we got this for you today."

It was a kitten. Mrs. Manson dropped it on the cushion beside me. It opened its' little eyes and crawled toward me and Sam. I scooped it up and handed it to Sam. She was crying silently as she took it and hugged it close to her chest. It meowed softly and purred against her.

"Thank you," Sam murmured. Mrs. Manson left quickly, sheilding her face as she scurried up the stairs. The kitten began playing with a loose string on the hem of my shirt.

"It's a girl," I said quietly after checking. Sam chuckled and scratched the cat behind the ears.

"She looks like you," Sam said, nudging me in the ribs.

"What do you mean?" I asked, lightly scratching the kitten along her back. She closed her eyes and purred.

"She's a black cat, but all four of her paws are white, like your gloves. She's got a little white spot on her chest and the very top of her head, your DP symbol and your hair. And her eyes are green! She looks just like you when you're Phantom,"

"I guess you're right," I laughed. The kitten did look an awful lot like my ghostly self. "What are you gonna name her?"

Sam frowned. "I...I don't know if I am," She whispered.

"What are you talking about? You've gotta name your cat!"

"I don't think I should." She stared at the cat, tears building in her eyes. "I'm not really going to be around much longer. I don't think it's fair for me to name her if..."

"You should name her." I said firmly.

"No...I want you to name her." Sam said, glancing up at me. "And I want you to take her. When...when I'm...not around to take care of her anymore. I want to know she'll be safe and taken care of. Please."

I shook my head. "She's _your_ cat, Sam."

"For the next month, and then she'll go to my parents, who hate animals. They'll put her in the pound, and she'll be killed, or sent to a horrible home. Please, Danny. Please promise me you'll take her when the time comes."

I felt my heart break. I couldn't refuse her anything. So I just nodded, my head hung low in defeat.

"So what are you going to name her?" Sam murmured, snuggling her head into my chest. It didn't take long for me to come up with the answer.

"Sammy, after her beautiful first owner." I planted a kiss on top of Sam's head. I felt her smiling. The kitten curled up on my thigh and drifted to sleep.

"I love it. I love you."

"I love you so much more than you could ever possibly imagine."

I still mean that, to this very day.

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><p>Reviews are greatly appreciated.<p>

And hey, thank you guys for putting up with my depressed mood. I haven't forgotten about Relatives, but I've currently run out of inspiration for it. So it's temorarily on hold...again. I just really need to get this out there.

I miss my grandpa.

And all my friends are moving away to college. I miss them too.

Gah. Why do people have to grow up?

Okay, I'll stop. I love you.

- Tori


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter four is extremely short. Because the action happens very quickly in this chapter.

Again, this is all based off a true story. I know it's going to seem a bit far-fetched, but I swear, it happened.

Scariest day of my entire life.

Anyways.

I don't own Danny Phantom.

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><p><strong>Just Three Words<strong>

**Chapter Four**

**August 20, 2011**

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><p>The day Sammy came around seems like it was years ago. Of course, I remember it like it only just happened, but I feel like I've run a million miles since then, and I still have a million miles to go.<p>

You see, at this point, Sam's not dead. Yet.

Things got bad a few days ago. She had been getting slowly weaker as time went on; she was slow going down the stairs to her basement, as it hurt for her to move. It got to the point that I had to carry her down. It killed me, seeing her face twist in pain when she had to move. But she would touch my face and smile when we were settled. And I would continue to be amazed at her strength. The fact that she was trying to be strong for me...there aren't words to describe how amazing she is for doing that. Sam Manson is the greatest human being that has ever existed.

Sammy took Sam's mind off of things. That little kitten is a ball of energy, I swear. She would tumble around on the carpeted floor of the basement in front of the couches, meowing loudly and rubbing against Sam's legs. Sam would chuckle weakly, unable to bend down to pet her. I would scoop Sammy up and drop her in Sam's lap, where she would meow and wrestle with my hand. Sam loved it. She would mumble how happy she was that we were bonding. She said it would be important later on.

I tried not to think about the reason why it would be important.

I remember the day we took her to the hospital. She just couldn't cope with the pain anymore. She buried her face in my chest and cried. She apologized to me. She told me she was tired of the pain. She begged me to make it stop. And then she apologized again. I couldn't speak. I just scooped her up and hustled her up the stairs, carefully stepping over a sleeping Sammy as I bolted. Her parents cried as they called an ambulance. Sam's breathing was harsh and ragged. Her hand was tight around mine as fat tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes and ran down into her hair.

The nurses took her away as soon as we got to the hospital. I watched them wheel her through the doors of the emergency room on a gurney, leaving me standing in the waiting room with her parents. I called Tucker and told him what happened. He and his parents arrived at the same time as my parents. And so we sat, reclaiming the private waiting room. And we've been here ever since.

Doctors have been continuously rushing in and giving us updates. Sam's still there, barely hanging on. It's really a matter of minutes now. Just a few minutes, and she'll be gone forever.

I'll never be able to see her again.

I'll never be able to talk to her again.

I'll never be able to hold her again.

What the hell kind of a cruel nightmare is this?

Her parents are making funeral arrangements. Freakin' FUNERAL ARRANGEMENTS. I want to scream at them. _She's not gone yet, you idiots! What's wrong with you? Show a little faith in your daughter!_

But I know they're right.

In a few days, I'll be attending my girlfriend's funeral.

What the hell am I gonna do?

Holy hell. A doctor just came in. He...he wants us to go up and see her. Say our goodbyes.

...I think I'm going to throw up. I can't breathe. I'm going to say goodbye to Sam.

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><p>HER HEART STOPPED. WHILE I WAS IN THE DAMN ROOM. SHE FLAT LINED WHILE I WAS HOLDING HER DAMN HAND.<p>

Sam's heart stopped.

There are doctors and nurses all over the place. They're crawling all over each other, trying to get into the room with her. They just pushed all of us out. We're standing in the hallway, listening to a voice on the PA system shout "CODE ORANGE IN ROOM 183!"

That's Sam's room.

I think I'm going to die now.

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><p>They got her heart going again. Somehow, by some miracle, her heart is beating again. So they're letting us back in. We're finishing up our goodbyes. I'm crying harder than I've ever cried in my life. Everyone else is already inside, but I'm still sitting out here. I'm scared of going back in thas;fladkjkob

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HOLY MOTHER OF GOD HER HEART STOPPED AGAIN. AGAIN.

No...no no no no...this is not how it's supposed to end...God, please, please, please...I love her...I need her...you can't take her away from me yet...please, there's still so much I need to say to her...God, PLEASE...don't let it end like this...

God, if you can hear me, please.

I need her. I am nothing without her. I'm the shell of a man without her. Please, for the sake of humanity, let her live.

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><p>Cliffy?<p>

I know, I'm horrible. Sowwy. But...it just works here.

Are you crying yet?

Haha, sorry. Couldn't resist.

Review?

I love you.

- Tori


	6. Chapter Five

This is the last chapter of the story. I can add a chapter and tell you which parts actually happened to me, if you'd like. Leave a review and let me know.

Reminders:

This is absolutely based off a true story. Sam's fight with cancer is very real.

I don't own Danny Phantom.

This is dedicated specifically to my grandfather, Robert Walker. But I'd like to extend that dedication to anyone who's lost someone close to them to cancer. If you are someone, or know someone, who is fighting against cancer, this story is for you, too. I hope I did you justice.

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><p><strong>Just Three Words<strong>

**Chapter Five**

**August 21, 2011**

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><p>It's been a long night.<p>

They got her heart going again. They won't let us in to see her anymore in a huge group. We're only allowed in one at a time. Because in a huge group we overstimulate her. It was our fault that her heart stopped both times.

So we go in one at a time. She's not even conscious. She has a tube running down her throat that keeps her breathing. A machine is pumping life into her at this point. I sat with her for an hour, holding her hand and telling her how much I missed her. I felt like I was talking to a dead body.

Let me tell you, it's a _lot_ less pleasant than it sounds.

I've been sitting in the waiting room. For a while, everyone was crying. And I mean everyone, even Tucker. We didn't think it was possible for them to get her heart going again. For a while, it looked like she was gone. But then an extremely harried-looking doctor rushed in and said they got her heart beating again. That she had somehow stabalized. Well, relatively stabalized.

The Manson's are still making funeral arrangements. They're talking about what kind of flowers they're going to put on Sam's casket.

Either my heart is going to explode, or I'm going to throw it up. I seriously have never felt this kind of searing pressure in my chest before. I want it to stop. I just want this nightmare to end.

But, let's be real here. It's not going to end. Sam will haunt me for the rest of my life. Not literally, like I won't have to be fighting her ghost form or anything. She'll haunt my thoughts, my memories, my heart. No, her heart. My heart belongs to her. I gave it to her a long time ago, really.

Black roses. They need to put black roses on her casket. She would love that. And lilies. Sam always loved lilies.

A doctor just came in. He says he has news...

* * *

><p>OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD.<p>

THE TUMOR SHIFTED.

IT MOVED.

AWAY FROM HER HEART.

THEY CAN TRY THE SURGERY TO GET IT OUT NOW.

SAM'S IN SURGERY AS I WRITE THIS. THERE'S A CHANCE.

I CAN'T BREATHE.

I think I'm going to pass out...

* * *

><p>The surgery has been going for three hours now. We haven't seen a single doctor who knows anything yet. Everyone's out of their seats, pacing. I've been on the phone with Jazz for a while now, explaining what's been happening. She said she was flying in soon, no matter what the outcome of the surgery is. My stomach is churning. I've never been so nervous before in my life. Going up against the Ghost King was less nerve-wracking than this. Because then, I got to do something. I was busy, my mind wasn't focused on the fact that I was fighting for my life against Pariah. I was focused on the fight. But here, I have nothing to distract myself with, besides typing this out on my laptop.<p>

Surprisingly, typing it out actually kind of makes it worse. But I'm committed to this stupid journal thing, so I'm going to keep going.

Tucker looks like he's about to throw up. He's looked like that for a while now. He took his beret off and started twisting it in his hands, like he's trying to wring water out of it.

I really need to distract myself. I just took out my headphones, plugged them into my laptop, pulled up iTunes, and set it on shuffle.

Aw, shit. _Somewhere Over The Rainbow_ came up.

_Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high. There's a land that I dreamed of once in a lullabye. Oh somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue. And the dreams that you dared to dream really do come true. Someday I'll wish upon a star, and wake up where the clouds are far behind me. Where troubles melt like lemon drops high above the chimney tops, that's where you'll find me. Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly. Birds fly over the rainbow, why then, oh why, can't I?_

Why can't I? I can fly. I can fly far away, leave all of this behind. Forget it ever happened. I can go somewhere far away, where pain can't reach me. And it would be perfect.

Wouldn't it be?

* * *

><p>I...I don't believe this.<p>

They got the tumor out.

Without killing her.

She's alive? Like, actually alive?

WHAT THE HELL AM I STILL DOING WRITING THIS DOWN?

* * *

><p>Sam's going to live. She fought hard, and she won. She is officially cancer free. Even the weather is celebrating; we've been in a huge drought lately, and today it started raining. Sam loves the rain.<p>

She won't be able to go home for a few more days, until she recovers from the surgery. But she's awake, and she can breathe on her own now. So they got her off the machine, and she's breathing. Talking and laughing and joking around. I can't believe I honestly thought I would be attending her funeral.

The first thing she said to me when she saw me was: "Where's Sammy?"

You'd expect, "Oh my gosh, I'm alive! Isn't it awesome! You thought I was going to die, but I'm alive! And I'm going to stay that way!" But no. Her first question was about her cat.

Typical Sam.

But God, I love her. I laughed and told her so. She smiled and kissed me, then leaned away and said, "Seriously, though. Where is she?"

So I'm heading to her house to get Sammy. Because Sam gets what she wants. As usual.

Sam, if you're reading this, I love you. Don't scare me like that ever again. Okay? I love you, I love you, I love you.

And _that_ is the story of how I learned just how life-changing three words can be.

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><p>It happened, I swear. His heart stopped twice, and somehow, he made it through.<p>

It was actually pretty incredible. And he said some pretty hilarious things after he woke up and stayed up.

Review?

I love you!

- Tori


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